


Champagne

by metaphorwaters



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Drunk Sherlock, Drunkenness, F/M, High Sherlock, John's Wedding, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock Series 3 Spoilers, Sherlock-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:03:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaphorwaters/pseuds/metaphorwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's my wedding day," he says. "My wedding day, Sherlock Holmes." </p><p>John, for his own credit, had never sounded weak. But he did now, slumped up against the wall in his fancy suit (which, Sherlock noted, didn't fit him correctly. He must've bulked up while he was... absent), fiddling with his sleeves. </p><p>"Oh, believe me," he rasps before he can stop himself. "I knew before you told me. I knew.. Because before you talked about Mary and were in love, you used to talk about me that way, John."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Champagne

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I used to be LadyElizabethStark, I'm back and now in love with Sherlock. As i am American, i haven't seen any of series three yet. This is based off all I've gathered off tumblr. If there are any inaccurate facts, that's why!
> 
> Otherwise.. Enjoy.

Sherlock's whole word sways from left to right, and he can barely see his blurred reflection under the harsh fluorescent lights. His long, pale fingers fight with the delicate white corsage some more-and despite his supreme intelligence, he _can't pin the damn thing to his jacket._ A laugh almost fights its way out of his mouth, but he suppresses it, dismissing the affects of the alcohol he so easily swiped from the caterer. 

It was child's play, really. It was apparent to him that no one could resist John Watson's bachelor best man-it was practically written all over each woman in the room, with their innocent doe eyes and pale pink cheeks and too wide smiles. The small woman who ran the business- _Laura, ___he thinks, _her name was Laura ___-slipped him a bottle after only one soulful glance and a tiny wink.

__Too easy, he thinks, tearing off the gold foil seal (and the custom label that says John and Mary in looping cursive script) and popping open the bottle with his bare hands. _It's always too easy.__ _

__Sunlight streams through the window of the empty dressing room, making the drab and cheap looking decor look a little bit more cheerful. Sherlock thinks he even sees the dying roses in the vase on the windowsill perk up a little, but that's probably due to the pills he popped like candy an hour before he arrived.. And the electricity he injected into his veins a half hour after that. Thinking about the needle makes the fresh injection sites ( _he had been clean for a week, a whole week, just for John_ ) sting, and he rubbed at them absentmindedly. _ _

__He hasn't even seen John yet and he's already drained a fourth of the bottle-_ _

__"Sherlock?"_ _

__Speak of the devil and he shall appear, he thinks, and glances lazily toward the door. He leans back in the chair and crosses his leg over his knee, holding the neck of the bottle between his fingers so lightly it almost drops._ _

__"Come in," he says, and his voice sounds gravelly, deeper. He likes it. It sounds like pity, and that, given the drink and the pills, is obviously what he craves, if he were to analyze his own behavior. _Poor Sherlock Holmes. In love with his best friend, only to reappear for his wedding.__ _

____"Sherlock?" John peeks his head through the door, and even through the small haze he's in, Sherlock can still see him clearly enough, and he flinches._ _ _ _

_____John Watson or the devil? _he asks himself.__ _ _ _ _

______"Hello," he replies in a light, lilting voice, and John's brow crinkles in confusion._ _ _ _ _ _

_______The devil looks more nervous than usual, _Sherlock observes.__ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Sherlock," John repeats for the third time, only this time it isn't a question. It is a statement. It is his entire world. He lives for his name to fall from John's lips... But he died for it, too. And that is why his breath smells like cheap champagne and why his corsage is crookedly pinned to his two sizes too small suit._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Violin music drifts in behind John, alopqng with the muted voices of the arriving guests. John swallows. He notices the wrappers on the floor, and Sherlock watches his eyes flicker with unknown emotion- (Sadness? his mind says. _Regret?_ ). _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"John," he says, but his accent is suddenly thicker than he can manage, and it comes out a slurred " _Jawn._ "_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"You can't-" he takes two steps into the room, closes the door, leans on it. Sherlock follows his gaze all the way to the window and wonders vaguely if he should attempt to shield it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"I waited two years for you," he finishes, and it is not the voice of John Watson, army doctor that he hears, nor the voice of John Watson, his only friend, but the voice of the one man who ever made his feel sane.  
"And you-and you _never fucking came back._ "_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The bottle hits the ground within two seconds, and all he can hear for two blissful moments is the sound of shattering glass._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________John doesn't look alarmed at the breaking glass, and he glances down at his own hand. The bottle is still whole in his fingers. Hmm. Maybe what he took was slightly more potent than usual._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"It's my wedding day," he says. "My wedding day, Sherlock Holmes."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________John, for his own credit, had never sounded weak. But he did now, slumped up against the wall in his fancy suit (which, Sherlock noted, didn't fit him correctly. He must've bulked up while he was... absent), fiddling with his sleeves._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Oh, believe me," he rasps before he can stop himself. "I knew before you told me. I knew.. Because before you talked about Mary and were in love, you used to talk about me that way, John."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> This will be continued! x


End file.
